October 28, 2005
Pumpkin Carving
We have our pumkins ready to go. We've bought the necessary items we will need to do the job right. Next? We need to decide what we want our pumpkin to be. In the meantime, for ideas, we go HERE.
Try it out. I found this over at Heather's, who, by the way, happens to be lovely and talented, and the best nurse "evah".
Posted by Moogie at 09:23 AM | Comments (10)
Mechanically Inclined???
A few days ago I was having some work done at the local Ford Dealership. A blonde came in and asked for a seven-hundred-ten.
We all looked at each other and another customer asked, "What is a seven-hundred-ten?"
She replied, "You know, the little piece in the middle of the engine, I have lost it and need a new one." She said that she did not know what it was but this piece had always been there.
He gave her a piece of paper and a pen and asked her to draw what the piece looked like. She drew a circle and in the middle of it wrote 710. He then took her over to another car, which had its hood up and asked, "Is there a 710 on this car?"
She pointed and said, "Of course, it's right "there." (Click on the word "there".)
Sent to me by Catfish.
Posted by Moogie at 09:07 AM | Comments (4)
October 27, 2005
Friday vs Monday
Bwahahahahahaha.....I think this about sums it up, don't you?
Posted by Moogie at 06:29 PM | Comments (4)
A hex upon you!
My children are as different as night and day. I've never really been able to comprehend just how that could happen, but there you have it.
Meelie No (often times referred to as Nosey Rosie), my youngest, is quite the challenge. She has a temper that rivals the best of them. I am too often it its path. At the same time, this child can be one of the most sensitive, caring children around.
Case in point. We had a parent-teacher's conference last week. Nosey Rosey is having difficulty processing verbal direction. The teacher would like to have her tested, so see if she is eligible for tutoring in that area. This came as something of a shock to her father an I as she had straight A's on her last report card. The problem is, according to her teacher, is that she has to work too hard for it and often times needs quite a bit of clarification and explanation. I like the fact that the teacher is on the ball and wants to nip this in the bud at an early age.
During the conference, the teacher told us that she is very encouraging to all of the other students. "Wow, I think that is the best printing I've ever seen you do. It's so neat! You are getting so much better."
She told us how NR is very close to a child that has mild autism. He gets very frustrated and upset quite easily. The other day they were playing a game. One of the other children took the color game piece that he wanted. He became agitated and that was when my daughter stepped in. She leaned over, gave him a hug and said, "here child's real name, you can have this piece. I saved it just for you because I think its perfect for you." Apparently, he calmed down right away, and settled right into the game. Her teacher now relies on her to calm him down when necessary. At this point, it was necessary to lean over and close my husband's mouth. Mine remained wide open. And the flies began to file in.
On the other side of the coin, she can turn on you in a heartbeat. We have daily battles with homework and tonight was not exception. Our general rule is that when you get home, you do your homework before you play. Occasionally, that works out just fine, but there are times that getting her to do her homework is much like giving yourself a lobotomy.
We got a late start tonight and by the time she finished, it was dark outside so she couldn't play. Predictably, she threw a fit. After going out into the garage yet again to let the neighborhood know of her unhappiness, she came charging into the kitching, shaking her fist and shouting, "curse you people, for destroying my play time!" What I want to know is, just where did she get that from?
After a few minutes of sulking in her room, she came skipping out, holding the guinea pig and asking me if I would read to her and Sugar Plum.
You know what's scary? She takes after me.
Posted by Moogie at 06:28 PM | Comments (1)
Dancing Chickens
I've always thought that my sister needed psychological help. I mean, she hangs out with a mullet wanna-be:
And just now? I caught her watching this.
I think that intervention is in order, don't you?
Posted by Moogie at 08:34 AM | Comments (4)
October 26, 2005
Will she be a detective?
While walking from the garage to my car parked in the driveway this morning, I overheard a conversation between my significant other and Chickie. It went something like this:
Chickie: Man, it's seriously cold out here!
SO: No duh Sherlock (is this man supportive or what?)
Chickie: That's me, master of the obvious!
I'm thinking she needs to cut back on the mysteries that she's watching with the SO.
Posted by Moogie at 07:27 PM | Comments (2)
NikiZ is HERE!
Now perhaps I can get some work done. The long awaited arrival of the Zoot bundle of joy has finally come.
NikiZ is here. Go check out the specifics.
Warm wishes and mucho congrats go out to Zoot, MrZ, LilZ and GrandmaZ. I know it's been a long tough road for you.
Posted by Moogie at 01:10 PM | Comments (1)
She's back
She's moved into some new digs, but she is still the same wonderfully talented, gifted and warm feisty lady we all know and love.
Welcome back sweetie, I've missed you.
Posted by Moogie at 07:55 AM | Comments (2)
October 25, 2005
Time keeps on spinning, spinning, spinning....
When faced with the waiting game, especially when it has to do with health issues, I become somewhat psychotic. My mother always told me that I am very good at backing the hearse up to the door, or, keeping one foot on a banana peel, and the other in the grave.
Truer words have never been spoken about me, though I was reluctant to admit it in my earlier, I am immortal stage.
I am also good at avoidance. Oh look, a shiny penny......
For those of you who don't know the story, I'll try to give you a brief recap. A little over a year ago, I experienced severe abdominal pain. A CT scan revealed that I had a perforated bowel, the cause of which was diverticulitis. I spent nearly a week in the hospital, with no food or water, and was pumped full of antibiotics and subjected to more needle pricks than I care to remember. It took me a good 3 weeks to recover my strength and go back to work, albeit only part time for another 3 weeks. It was, shall we say, unfun.
About 3 weeks after that, on my birthday no less, I went in for a barium enema, and a week later, into the doctor's office to discuss the results. Low and behold, everything had healed and looked wonderful. At this time, the surgeon told me that I could either have the surgery now (to remove the effected section of colon) or wait to see if I continued to have problems.
I chose the latter. As it turns out, I drew the short straw.
I have had several bouts with diverticulitus since then, and generally, have not been able to kick the problem completely for about the last 4 months.
I couldn't ignore it any more, and finally made the appointment with the specialist after much gentle shoving from my family, most especially, my brother.
The doctor told me in no uncertain terms that I needed surgery. I was way too young to be going through this, and over time it was only going to get worse. He was brutally honest. He also told me that the next time I had a severe attack, I may not be so lucky.
I valiantly fought the tears, and did pretty well for the most part. Why? Because I pretty much knew what he was going to say before he said it but damnit, it was still a hard pill to swallow.
The idea now is to give me some antibiotics to knock out the current infection as best as possible. I'll go in for a colonoscopy (up periscope) on November 7th, and find out the extent of the damage. He wants to see if it's in a general area, or if it has spread at all throughout my colon. That will determine the type of surgery it will be.
His main concern is to make this an elective surgery. He wants to avoid emergency surgery, in which I'll end up with a colostomy.
So now I'm dealing. I'm accepting. I'm taking it one step at a time. And by God and all that is righteous, I am NOT going to let this turn me into a blubbery mass of hysteria. On November 7th, I'll have the colonoscopy, and then? I will work on the next step of acceptance, whatever that might be.
Oh look...a shiny penny!
Posted by Moogie at 06:42 PM | Comments (7)
October 21, 2005
The ability to laugh
It's often stated the laughter is the best medicine. I would have to say that I agree with that. I'm fairly sure there isn't anyone out there who doesn't believe it, or hasn't experienced it's power of healing.
Have you ever been in a situation where someone starts to laugh, then others join, in and then no one can stop? And when there is a lull in the laughter, and people are gasping for air an no one can figure out what was so funny to begin with?
I love to laugh long and hard like that. My face gets beet red, my stomach hurts, and at worst, I pee in my pants (hush Elisson, no need to expand on this one, and yes, I received the Depends).
Have you ever found yourself in a situation that you are laughing so hard at something that you are witnessing you can't stop? Like this?
Yeah, me too. And it felt good. What memories do you have of laughing long and hard?
Posted by Moogie at 06:29 PM | Comments (7)
October 20, 2005
Mo-skeet-os
Disclaimer: This is a whiney, whoa is me post. If you don't want to read it, skip it.
We have a ton of them and they are becoming a nuisance. They weren't this bad last year. If you hear my co-workers, friends and neighbors talk about it; they don't remember when it's been this bad.
They are everywhere. When I walk outside, I'm surrounded, and they follow me into my car. They cover my dogs, which, when they come inside, bring the blood sucking capitalists into my palace. They are inside the buildings at work. Don't even get me started on the bug bite count from when I leave my car in the parking lot to when I get to my desk.
There is slapping, combined with the Georgia wave going on everywhere. My boss slapped me (I kid you not) on the forehead this afternoon. Her words? "Man that was a big mother."
There is nowhere you can go to get away from them. I'm not entirely sure but I think I've lost my mind. Well, to be truthful, I lost that a long time ago, but that's for a different post.
People, is it Friday yet?
- Tomorrow is my scheduled Friday off. I'm on call because they are getting ready for a hurricane. If that bitch comes ashore, I'm surely going to go have a word with Fred.
- My doctor’s appointment that I had schedule for today? The one I was ready for? Got rescheduled for Monday. It seems some idiot had some emergency that required surgery so they had to slip me in to another time slot.
- My youngest? We had a parent-teacher conference on Wednesday. Even though she got straight A's on the last report card, it seems she has a bit of a problem with understanding directions. There is a short in her processing ability. She'll be going in for testing to see if she qualifies for help.
- Both of my kids suffer from cognitive bedtime aversionitis (ok, I made that term up but I bet alot of you know what that means).
Ok...it's posting light tonight. The list could be endless but I want to go to bed. And bury myself underneath the covers where the mo-skeet-os can't bite me anymore.
Posted by Moogie at 09:17 PM | Comments (6)
October 19, 2005
Dark Secrets
She awoke with a start. The wind was blowing; the rain was cascading against her home. She was sure that the roof would give away under its pressure, and the water would flow freely sweeping her up and taking her into the night and the unknown.
It was dark. The moon was silent. The trees were blowing with a gale force, causing the branches to scrape against her bedroom window. She imagined long, gnarled fingers, scraping upon her window. “Come with me, come to me, and walk towards your destiny.” She pulled her knees up to her chest. She felt a scream build up in her throat, and she choked it back. The sound came out as nothing more than a garbled groan. There was something, or someone, who wanted to come in. She must not give in. She must never give in again.
She shook her head, her dark brown hair, cascading around her shoulders. “It’s just a dream” she said to no on in particular. “It’s just a dream. They can’t touch me here; they don’t know where I am.”
She looked over at the empty pillow beside her. A sadness enveloped her heart. She missed him so. His ever ready smile, his laughter, his acceptance. The warmth of a body, so strong, lying next to her while she slept. The security. The safety. The comfort.
She relaxed and felt him beside her once again. She remembered waking up in times past. She only needed to reach out and touch him and he would be instantly awake, enveloping her in an embrace that warded off all of the imaginary evil in her head. She began to doze.
The memories came fast and furious. The heat, the warmth. The hands running over her body. The promises, the whispers of everlasting love. The passion threatened to overtake her and she let go. She let the feeling run through her. His hands. They were magical. Her breathing became ragged. Her body was restless from unfulfilled passion. The heat was building up and she could only cry out, begging for release.
He laughed gently. “Easy my love, we have all night.” As his mouth came down upon her already taut nipple, she cried out in delight. Her hands ran through his hair, and she tried desperately to move his head up towards her mouth. He captured them, and lifted them up above her head. He leaned down and encircled her navel with his tongue. She moved restlessly under him. Unconsciously, she lifted her hips, grinding against him, making her desire well known.
As his hand cupped her sex, the lightening struck, and lit up the sky. The light poured into the room. She was standing, naked and alone. On top of the bed. Holding a knife. That was dripping blood. The blood of her beloved as he lay, face up, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, with a perpetual look of confusion on his face.
That was the last thing she remembered as the darkness surrounded her, and she slid into black hole that stole her memories, her heart and her soul.
Posted by Moogie at 04:24 PM | Comments (10)
October 18, 2005
For whom the bell tolls
Way back in the olden days, when Ward and Denny were young, there was an old wive's tale that was passed on from generation to generation.
You may have wondered where and why the custom of "clinking" glasses during times of celebration came from. It was believed that the devil's presence was the strongest at times that were festive. The belief was that they did not like bells and would be driven off when they heard them, thus, the clinking of the glasses.
In modern times, I imagine that has changed. I'm guessing a good way to push the devil out is to play a Yoko Ono record.
I'm just full of information like that.
Posted by Moogie at 06:18 PM | Comments (5)
Introducing
Introducing, our newest furbabies, Gingi and Sugar Plumb. Both are male Guinea Pigs, and no, I had no say in the names.
Can you tell they are close? You put them anywhere near each other and this is what they do. And then they purrr...and talk to you. Seriously cute.
These guys are gonna be very tame. The girls are always holding them. For that matter, so am I.
So here you go, the newest members of our clan. So now? We have two dogs, 7 fish and 2 guinea pigs. Good stuff yes?
Posted by Moogie at 06:10 PM | Comments (2)
October 17, 2005
My Eyes!
You know it’s going to be a bad day when you are at work and you receive a call from the administration office at the grade school where your youngest child attends second grade.
Ring, ring, ring
Me: Department name that I work in, this is Moogie.
Mrs. Administration Lady: Yes, may I please speak to Mrs. Last Name?
Me: This is she.
MAL: Mam, this is Mrs. Administration Lady at a Georgia Public School. Meelie No was sent to the office just now by her teacher.
Me: Sigh. What happened? Is she sick?
MAL: No mam.
Me: What did she do?
MAL: It’s not so much what she did mam, but what she is wearing.
Me: What she’s wearing?
MAL: Yes mam.
Me: You’re gonna make me work for this aren’t you?
MAL: Mam?
Me: What is she wearing?
MAL: Well, it’s inappropriate and we need you to bring her another set of clothes.
Me: How is it inappropriate?
MAL: Her skirt is too short, and so is her shirt. When she lifts her arms, her stomach shows.
Me: Hmm, can you describe her outfit for me? I left before she woke up so I don’t know what she’s wearing. My husband dressed her.
MAL: Ah, that probably explains it.
Me: Explains what?
MAL: Mam?
Me: I’ll be there as soon as I can.
And this was what she was wearing when I got there.
Add this to the fact that my child is in a size 7, close to an 8. These clothes were a 6. I had to peel them off of her when I got there.
Posted by Moogie at 05:35 PM | Comments (7)
October 16, 2005
People, we have arrived
When we came from the west, we were not readily accepted by our southern neighbors. After all, we came from the land of the fruits and nuts. Who KNOWS what we would bring into the neighborhood, yes?
When we first got our ride on mower, we lovingly and proudly referred to it as a tractor. Little did we know, our neighbors, and pretty much everyone in Southeastern Georgia was laughing at us. I believe that Dave Barry wrote a column about it.
Finally, one of my esteemed co-workers told me, "Moogie, it's a ride on mower, NOT a tractor." My reply was huffy and to the point. "I'm from California, what do you expect?" I use that excuse a lot here.
Over time, we have became accepted, and tolerated amongst our southeastern brethren. Today? Today? We have now been inducted. The reason? Folks, we now have a TRAILER to attach on to our tractor.
Sniff. A moment of silence please.
Posted by Moogie at 06:25 PM | Comments (6)
October 14, 2005
Puberty and friendships
Hello, my name is Moogie. I have a pre-teen. And I don't understand her.
Does this sound familiar to you?
One of the great mysteries is how friendships come and go, in a whirlwind of emotion, heartache, and the everlasting "I can't believe that she did that I will never talk to her again or be her friend."
Oh, did I mention that they are friends again? The absolute best of buddies. On the phone together as much as possible. Tonight they are meeting up at the rink. Because they have so many details to discuss, and, oh, "what about that really cute new guy? I think he likes you."
My head is spinning most of the time these days. I'm positive that somewhere in the past, she must have suffered a great fall, and her brain stem has disconnected from her spinal chord and there is no visible sign of brain activity. I'm hoping that will heal itself.
It leaves me scratching my head. So much so that I have developed a bald spot. Look, right there, right on the top. See it? I'm so afraid to open my mouth, and give an opinion. Because, most likely it's wrong. Heaven help me but I don't remember ever being like that (Mom, it's time for you to leave the room now. I don't want to damage my reputation, ok?).
There are days when we battle incessantly, and sometimes, there are these wonderful breaks. Where we don't argue at all. Like when she's asleep.
Don't get me wrong. It's a wild and somewhat nauseous ride, but I don't want to get off of it. Unless of course, someone was to offer me an all expenses stay at a condo in Hawaii. I want to see how the story ends. And I want to see her married, and happy. And have children. You see where this is going.
And then there was this discussion we had the other day. She was frustrating me beyond belief. No matter what I said, it wasn't right. Just to back up a bit, she was grounded for the day, and was not happy with me. She was fairly convinced that I was an unfit mother, and living on the streets would be better than being with me.
So, we were having this discussion. She told me that "this girl" was always allowed to stay at the skating rink until it closed at midnight. Her mom lets her do anything."
I asked, "If she jumped off of the Golden Gate Bridge, would you follow her?"
She said, "Yes."
I said, "Well then, you're alot more stupid than I look."
Guess I showed her.
Posted by Moogie at 06:50 PM | Comments (10)
October 13, 2005
Some questions for you
- Ok, so what is up with hot dog buns? For years, my children just ate the hot dog with ketchup. That was it. No bun. No way, no how, nadda. Just recently, they look upon me as if I'm some sort of psychopath trying to get them to eat their veggies as well as eat hot dogs with no buns. Did the position of the planets change and I missed it?
- Speaking of eating (my children's favorite past time. And while I'm on that subject. How is it that they stay so thin?) Anyway. Both my husband and I worked late tonight. My youngest had dinner with her future husband and family. She had two plates full of spaghetti, and a helping of salad. Less than two hours later, I was making the oldest some hot dogs (see #1), and she acted as if I never fed her because I didn't offer her one as well. For the record, she had a hot dog, ON.A.BUN., some Sun Chips, and an orange. And then wanted dessert.
- My youngest daughter came home and looked pretty much like the beach. Sand everywhere on her body, and mud caked on her knees and in between her toes. I told her in no uncertain terms, to strip in the garage, and march her rump into the bathroom. Why, I ask you, did she happily skip into the bathroom, and do as I asked? I want to know. Why? Because I want that to happen every night. It is my fantasy NOT to have to fight bath time. To top that off? My oldest came home from playing and decided, all by herself, to take a shower while I was cooking her hot dogs (WITHOUT.A.BUN). And, she hung up her towel and threw her dirty clothes in the hamper without me asking her to.
Personally? I think the planets must have realigned, or it was one seriously lucky night.
Maybe I should go buy a lotto ticket.
Update: Why and how did I just notify myself that I've updated my blog? Some people should never be allowed around a computer. And I'm one of them.
Posted by Moogie at 07:51 PM | Comments (5)
October 12, 2005
Dreams
I rarely remember my dreams. Generally, when I do it's like "what the heck was that all about?" Know what I'm saying?
My grandmother died when I was in my early 20's. This was the woman that lived with us since the day I was born. She was my mother's mother. She was a hard worker. My grandfather died when my mom was six. Grandma had only attended school until she was in the 8th grade and at that time, she worked to help with the family expenses. Pretty normal stuff back then.
She worked in many different factories, and then later in life, she babysat and did other odd jobs. In other words, she did what it took to support my mother.
Until failing eyesight prevented her from doing so, Grandma was an avid quilter. And she did everything by hand. I have some of them, and to this day, I rarely get them out. I think I may need to change that. She played Canasta regularly. I remember when it would be her turn to host the games. Mom would make the snacks and such, oh, and the mixed foo-foo drinks. I remember coming home from school and all of the ladies would have made sure I had some snacks saved for me. Just for me. They were so good to me. They always asked how I was doing and really took an interest in what I had to say. For a young girl, that's an important thing. I always felt comfortable with them.
In later years, she had arthritis so bad. It was hard for me to watch her in such pain. It became more difficult to watch after she suffered a number of small strokes, which destroyed not only her short term memory, but her balance as well.
My mother took a leave of absence from her job (in essence, she retired early) to take care of her. By that time, I was older and would sometimes "grandma" sit, so that my parents could go out. My mother gave up alot of her life to take care of her own. In more ways than one. I didn't always show it back then, and perhaps I didn't realize the magnitude of the sacrifices my mother (and father) made, but I realize it now.
But I digress. I apologize. I was marching on memory lane there for a while and it felt so good I didn't want to stop.
Where was I? Oh, the dream.
Whenever I dreamt of my grandmother, I never saw her face. I can't tell you how frustrating that was for me. It took the birth of my first child to make me realize the magnitude of my loss. She was the first one I lost, that was close to me, and to this day the hardest. I wanted her to see my baby. To be there, and to hold her. I wanted to share everything with her because she was always there to listen. It's odd how things like that occur, isn't it?
I dreamt of a large, beautiful white rose last night. I can still remember the smell. I remember gnarled, curled hands, so beaten down from the effects of arthritis, holding it. I remember looking up from the rose that was held steadily in front of my face, with the gentle words "take it, hold it, smell it, feel the life."
The eyes I made contact with were my grandmothers. Full of love and support and strength. She was wearing a house dress, full of flowers and bright with color. When I close my eyes, I can still see it. I SAW her. I saw her face. I saw everything. I can still feel her hands wrapped around mine as I took the rose she was offering. And they were warm.
I took the rose. It was so beautiful. So full, even in its bud like state. She told me to peel the pedals off one by one, and smell them. The further I got down into the flower, the brighter the colors. The peace I felt the further down I drilled was amazing. I was calm.
She told me, "Keep peeling. Keep looking for the beautiful center of the rose. The more you peel, the stronger you will feel." I woke up some time soon after that. With a sense that it was going to be ok. Whatever will be will be. While the fear still surrounds me, I am able to control it. It does not rule me anymore.
To back up in time, I got a call from my doctor yesterday. He is referring me to, yet another, specialist. I firmly believe this is what brought this dream to fruition. It was my mind's (or perhaps my grandmother's) way of telling me that it was ok. It is ok to be afraid. Things will work out.
I go next Thursday (10/20). It's just an initial visit. But it's a start. And while I'm afraid, I know it's going to be ok.
After all, grandma said so. And I have a rose.
Posted by Moogie at 09:15 PM | Comments (7)
October 11, 2005
News and things
In the News
Piglet Banned in Brittish Municipal Office
Blink. Blink. Blink.
Go here to read the article. This reminds me of Jerry Falwell's crusade against the Teletubbies because they were subverting our offspring into gaydom. Me thinks our Brittish cousins are just a wee bit to PC.
Things that make me go awwwweeeee
We received our very first letter, via snail mail from my youngest daughter today. Apparently, this must have been an assignment for them. Following, is the complete, unedited version.
Dear Mommy and Daddy,I can't wait in tell you get home. Tank you mom and dad for takeing me to danc. You gise are funny. You make me laf. Tank you for doing ulot of tings for me. You gise I love you! I can not do aney thing with out you. XoXo. Than means I love you! Love Mellie No
Things that make me want to sing
Go tell Aunt Rhodie. Go tell Aunt Rhodie. Go tell Aunt Rhodie, the old gray goose is dead.
As always, click on the image to enlarge.
Things that make me go ewww
On Sunday, when I was out in the yard with the kids, my neighbor was kind enough to bring a snake dangling on a shovel over to show me. You know, they don't look any better when they are nearly cut in half.
Things that cause me to wonder
As heard while working in the garage.
Tiny! Don't chew Bruiser's tail. You don't know where it's been!
Things that make me love my husband
Posted by Moogie at 07:02 PM | Comments (7)
October 10, 2005
The great tubing adventure
Comico: The corago, the leader or the maestro, the one most capable of instructing others, should rehearse the sogetto (scenes) before it is performed so that the actors are familiar with the content of the play, know where to conclude their speeches, and can explore in rehearsal some new witticisms and new lazzo. The person in charge of the rehearsal does not restrict himself to just reading the scenario, but explains the name and qualities of the characters, the argument of the play, the location of the action, the stage houses, the distribution of the lazzi and all the necessary details, taking care of props required for the play, like letters, purses, daggers and such like, as listed at the end of the scenario. – Rudlin
Signature Props: Fancy Stick. This fancy stick is mainly used as a cane or a baton, however it can do many other things depending on what the scenario calls for. It can be at telescope, a gun, a slapstick, the possibilities are endless.
1.) Feet together and hands clasped in fists on hips. “Captain Commedia”.
2.) Feet apart and presenting with one hand, the other on the hip.
3.) Standing upright and making faces in a “David Letterman” fashion.
4.) Standing on one foot and arms crossed and front leg crossed with toe pointing into the ground.
5.) Flat feet, ballet first position, knees slightly bent.
6.) Weight on bent leg with other leg extended, straightforward but flexible. Elbows up, and shoulders relaxed and hands and fingers slightly spread.
7.) Hunched over in an enthusiastic position almost making a “C” toward the audience.
8.) Head in hands almost hiding with embarrassment afraid to see what will happen next.
I chose this character from the Taming of the Shrew because I think it best depicts the persona of the man known as Veliciman. In more ways than one.
The The wandering Velocicomico, bearing his stick, presumably enjoying and afternoon of half rubber and drinking punch with the lowly minions that grace his presence.
What is this my fine blown eyed blodgers? Be it an unsuspecting heathen riding this thing called a tube? In MY river? How DARE he?
What a pathetic sight, this human, soiling the royal waters of the self proclaimed god of blown rectum spidum. Alas, I must stop this atrocity, for we cannot have peasants amongst our midst.
Take that you lowly scum of the bacterial infected waters. And never return, lest I take your youngest daughter as my slave, you wretched lowlife.
And that's pretty much how it happened. Give or take a few sips of punch.
Posted by Moogie at 08:07 PM | Comments (7)
October 09, 2005
Love is.....
Going to Walmart. Ok, going to Walmart with kids. Going to Walmart with 6 kids, ages 11, 9, 8, 7, 5 and one. Only two of them are yours.
And you let them listen to the radio. More specifically, a CD. More precise? One of those teenie bopper CDs. And the song you listen to alllll the way there and alllll the way back?
"Who let the dogs out? Who! Who! Who! Who!"
If you don't know it, I'll be happy to burn you a copy.
Honey? Pass the Prozac. Oh, and by the way? You seriously owe me.
Posted by Moogie at 02:55 PM | Comments (8)
October 07, 2005
The infamous massage
Last weekend I had the misfortune pleasure of attending the Brown Eyed Blodger Fest Georgia Writer's workshop in the beautiful town of Helen, Georgia.
It was a wonderful weekend of drunken debauchery writing workshops, in which I saw friends I hadn't seen for a while, and met some new ones.
There is a story going around about Acidman and the infamous massage. The witnesses to the beginning of this event were Leslie and Elisson.
As the story goes, a man named Brian (and I use that term loosely) approached Rob (think light in the loafers, not that there is anything wrong in that), to ask him some questions, and get him prepped for his massage. Apparently, Elisson and Leslie witnessed this, but I'm here to give you the actual pictures. I think I must have been the only one to capture Brian and the masseuse, Robin on my camera.
This is Brian. Notice the red had and bright purple feathers? And the shirt? OMG...my EYES!
Rob and Robin, before the massage began. Brian tells me that Robin likes to keep a scrap book of all of her clients.
This is Leslie. She is taking some pictures of the event on her camera. Unfortunately, the only ones that came out were the nude shots but because my parents read this blog, I had to move those over to "Heaving Bossoms and Thrashing Thighs" (my secret blog).
Posted by Moogie at 04:48 PM | Comments (8)
October 06, 2005
Mother of the year
I just ain't right. And all you folks who were in Helen last weekend for the blodger meet can probably vouch for that (shaddup Elisson and Leslie).
I was going through my email and trying to catch up because it had been a few days since I'd touched the computer. I got an email from a friend. She sent me this link.
It kind of reminded me of Sam, after he ate that killer burrito on Saturday afternoon. Good lord I'll never walk behind that man again, no matter how much of a babe he is.
And what did I do? I shared it with my kids. And their friends.
I would make a good candidate for Mother of the Year, wouldn't I?
Posted by Moogie at 07:00 PM | Comments (6)